


Sutra

by Doctor Caduceus (Lemniscate)



Category: Heroes - Fandom, Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: AU, Crossover, Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-22
Updated: 2009-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemniscate/pseuds/Doctor%20Caduceus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The substance in the catalyst Arthur Petrelli sought out was, in fact, the power to end the world; that special energy Hiro's mother carried was a blessing, but it was also a curse, and now it lives in Mohinder Suresh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sutra

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't going to make a lick of sense if you're not familiar with Utena, or it will, but in a surreal, abstract kinda way...?
> 
> Takes place at the end of the Heroes volume Villains.

It's like being stabbed. A _lot_ like being stabbed. The first time it happens… Mohinder isn't sure what's going on the first time it happens, but he writes it off the first couple times, because even the feeling of being stabbed is better than the rasping, twisting mutation of a few months ago. He's fixed. He's better. The sharp pain is such a small price.

Molly Walker is the first to notice. She looks for him often, a mental touchstone to calm her when she feels too strange, too lost. She reaches out once when he's softly asleep, and she feels him convulse, a sharp lurch in response to his sharp pain. It feels like there's someone else there, another presence with him, but she doesn't see anyone. The pain subsides and so does that extra presence, though not completely, never completely.

She writes him and he assures her that he is fine, just fine, perfectly fine, but when she looks, he is never alone.

The next person to notice is Peter Petrelli, who feels the change in Mohinder as a tremor in his usual emotional landscape, a temblor just before the pain hits Mohinder and he touches his heart, wincing.

"Is your arm numb?" Peter asks, medical training kicking in as he presses his hand to the Plexiglas divider in the taxi. "Do you know what year it is?"

"It's nothing, Peter," Mohinder sighs, sitting back in the driver's seat. "I think I must have hit the brakes too hard and pulled something in my ribs, it's nothing."

Peter doesn't believe him, because there's a feeling, an emotion that Peter has never known before that Peter can _feel_ in Mohinder which doesn't show on his face. It scares Peter, frightens him, and he can't find the words, but he starts to avoid Mohinder from that moment.

Matt Parkman figures out what it is, and Nathan Petrelli (of course) figures out what it _means,_ going through old Pinehearst files. For all the fine science Pinehearst and Primatech devoted themselves too, ultimately, they had their roots in myths and legends.

The spiritual substance in Hiro's mother, passed on to him by her, stolen from him by Arthur, is no mere abstract. It goes beyond healing, beyond repairing, beyond resurrecting. It is special beyond words, and it is such a blessing.

Except, as so many things are, for the one forced to carry it around.

"It's like something's possessing him," Matt says, as Mohinder, never a green thumb before, tends a lavish rose garden he has planted on the roof. "There's like a hum in his mind, a vibration, it's... it's kinda like hypnosis."

Nathan regards the scientist from the place he stands with Matt, in the shadows of the roof entrance.

"My father called it a catalyst," Nathan says. "A catalyst causes something to happen, but it doesn't get changed or used up."

"Called _what_ a catalyst?" Matt asks suspiciously.

"Whatever he put into the serum to make it work correctly," Nathan says, black eyes snapping to Matt's. "Suresh was doused in it. Whatever it was, it can't be destroyed. Which means..."

"You think it's in Mohinder?" Matt asks. "You think that's what's changing him?"

Nathan says nothing as Mohinder walks up, tucking a red rose into the buttonhole of Nathan's suit lapel and handing Matt another, this one blue (leave it to the geneticist to grow blue roses), and returns placidly into the apartment building.

"I don't know what it is," Nathan says.

Nathan knows, however, that he wants it.

Molly watches from afar as Nathan comes into orbit around Mohinder, and she does not like what she sees. Nathan touches him, whispers to him, and it is clear that he wants... something. She watches uneasily as Nathan moves Mohinder into a room in his mansion, keeping him like a porcelain doll, or a fairy princess. What's worse is that that's just what Mohinder's behaving like, a dove instead of the tiger Molly knows him to be.

She begins to reach out for help.

Matt insists that Nathan is just protecting Mohinder, and swears that he won't allow anything bad to happen. Matt doesn't realize that the bad thing has already happened. He thinks that the vacant look in Mohinder's eyes means that he's in danger, when in fact, danger has already taken root.

She tries to get in touch with Peter, who appears at Mama Suresh's house looking stern and sad.

"You need to save Mohinder," Molly says.

"I'm not a fairy tale prince," Peter protests. "That's Nathan. I'm sorry."

He vanishes again, leaving Molly to wonder, if princes are supposed to save maidens (or Mohinders) in distress, then who saves them from princes?

She talks to Claude, the man that only she can find.

"Sounds like you need a miracle, poppet, and no such thing exists," he says. She tries Micah, tried Maya, tries everyone she'd ever known who she thinks can help.

One day, help finds her.

"You're going about this wrong," says a voice from her nightmares. "The good doctor is no princess."

Molly looks up at the boogieman, the one she's been sent so far away to be kept safe from.

"Of course he's not, he's a boy," she answers, her voice trembling. Sylar smiles indulgently.

"Not what I meant. Nathan Petrelli has no use for a princess, or a prince. They're a dime a dozen."

"If Mohinder's not a prince or a princess, then what is he?" Molly asks. Sylar smiles wider, both predatory and fond.

"Mohinder's a witch," he purrs, sounding salacious and proud. "They don't let you be a princess when you're that smart, or a prince after all the terrible things he's done."

Molly swallows. It fits. Mohinder- when he's _right,_ burns black-gold like embers.

"What saves witches from princes then?" Molly asks. Sylar's face falls into a serious scowl.

"I don't know. Perhaps a dragon."

"Are you gonna save him?" Molly asks.

"What's in it for me?" Sylar sneers.

"Whatever's making him like this is special. It's powerful. He can't use it, he's just holding onto it. But you know how things work."

Sylar smirks, and vanished into the shadows.

Matt opens the door to find Sylar standing there, before he finds himself pinned to the wall. Sylar strolls around the room calmly, looking as though he is trying to look bored, but Matt can hear his thoughts race as he searches for clues as to what has happened, to where Mohinder has gone.

"He's with Nathan," Matt says. "Nathan's trying to squeeze that power that his- your- father-"

"Just his," Sylar hisses. "So Arthur's catalyst ended up in Mohinder. Nathan doesn't learn."

"So why do you want it?" Matt asks.

"Because it's not just a secret ingredient, if you're insightful enough to know how to use it," Sylar answers. "Now. Where?"

"The Petrelli mansion. Mohinder's usually in the rose garden. That's all he does now."

Sylar sets Matt down, looking at the vase of pale blue roses sitting on the TV.

"Still playing God, Mohinder?" Sylar murmurs, oblivious to Matt now as he leaves.

Sylar finds Mohinder in the garden, as promised, and nothing, nothing is right. The sky above is clearest black, a fine dusting of stars both bright and faint overhead, where none should be visible for the light and air pollution of the city. Mohinder is on his back, staring up at a sky full of impossible stars on a bed of impossibly colored roses- blood red, sunset orange, corn yellow, evergreen, blues both deep and pale, cotton candy pink. They grow so wild and uncontrolled that Sylar could swear they're winding their thorns around Mohinder's bare arms and chest. The smell of them is so heavy in the air that Sylar can taste it on his tongue, oppressive and thick.

Sylar tries the gate, but nothing. He tries telekinesis, and still nothing.

"Mohinder," he says softly, "let me in."

Mohinder turns to the side to face the gate.

"You'll need a key," he said dully.

"Can you give me one?" Sylar tries.

"It's a big responsibility," Mohinder says gravely. "It comes with a great burden."

Sylar smirks.

"Pretty flowers?"

Mohinder doesn't smile.

"One, yes," he says. "Me. If you succeed."

Sylar tilts his head.

"You're so, so broken," he says softly. "I can fix you. I can fix anything. Give me the key."

Mohinder gets up and begins to walk toward the gate, his face still void of expression.

"You have to choose though. I'm still not sure which you ought to be," Mohinder says, and Sylar sees two roses in his hand as he reaches out: one green, one pure white.

Jealousy or purity. Envy or innocence.

"Mohinder!" a voice snaps sharply from the sprawling house. Mohinder startles with a flinch and comes to a halt, and Sylar lurches forward, arm through the gate as he tries to reach with his abilities, but in the end, only his hand and his arm does him any good as he catches Mohinder's hand, getting hold of long fine bones, his grip causing thorns to dig into Mohinder's hand. Nathan strides forward and grabs Mohinder's other arm, yanking him backwards.

"Don't let go," Sylar growls, clutching and stretching, but Nathan yanks, hissing,

"Drop his fucking hand, Mohinder," and Mohinder looks panicked as his grip slackens, as if out of his control.

"_Mohinder!_" Sylar cries out, and in his scrambling to hang on, the white rose winds up in his hand, and the silver ring from Mohinder's thumb slides free of his finger into Sylar's hand.

One look at the ring, at Mohinder being hauled away by a furious Nathan, who shakes Mohinder violently as he rails, and Sylar knows how the gate works, puts on the ring, and tries the gate again.

It flies open, and in two strides, Sylar has yanked Mohinder from Nathan's grasp, shoving him behind his back.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Nathan snaps. "The thing growing in him is beyond you."

Sylar raises his hand to slam Nathan against the wall.

"Do it," Nathan says, and when he feels the metal pierce his back, and sees the blade run through his front, red with his own blood, Sylar realizes that Nathan had not been speaking to him.

Mohinder catches Sylar as he collapses, eyes tearful and horrified.

"I'm so sorry," Mohinder says. "You gave me a taste of what true-"

"Mohinder?" Sylar interrupts. "Shut up."

Sylar gets to his knees and pulls the sword from his own back, tossing it aside. The wound seals itself in seconds, and he gets to his feet.

"We're even," he says to Mohinder, and holds out the hand on which he still wears Mohinder's ring. "Let's go."

"I can't," Mohinder says, still on his knees, eyes horrified and wide. "He's still winning."

Sylar snarls, grabbing Mohinder's shirt and hauling him to his feet. Mohinder grabs his wrist and presses Sylar's hand flat against his chest, over the heart, and one heartbeat pushes against Sylar's palm and keeps pushing. Sylar pulls his hand back and his hand wraps around the hilt of a sword, curved and sharp as his sins, sharp as Mohinder's mind, or tongue. Mohinder pitches backwards, falling, and Sylar catches him, drawing the sword away so Mohinder doesn't get cut—ironic, really, given that it was just buried inside him—and rests Mohinder gently on the ground of the garden.

Before he can turn to ask Nathan what the fuck all this is about, Nathan is on him, slashing with a long blade of his own.

"You haven't earned that, Gabriel," Nathan spits, his blade scraping along Sylar's.

"Swords? Really Nathan?" Sylar replies, shoving Nathan hard in the chest and away.

"That's not just a sword, you idiot," Nathan sneers. "That's the sword of Sutra. That's the thread that connects everything. That's the key to unlock the power to end the world and begin it again in whatever image you choose."

"Neat," Sylar says, but as the steel scrapes against steel he hears Mohinder crying out in agony.

"Still think it's neat?" Nathan asks. "It's a parasite, and it's killing him, but it'll never let him die. Right now it's yours, but not for long."

Mohinder, twisting on the ground, as if being stabbed again and again by knives no one could see, distracts Sylar and Nathan strikes home, into Sylar's shoulder, driving him to the ground and pinning him there.

"Without your powers, you're pathetic," Nathan hisses, "but you have something I need."

He puts his hand over Sylar's heart and yanks, and Sylar is disturbed and alarmed to see Nathan come away with a double edged sword, narrow and thin and needle sharp.

"The fuck…?"

"You know how things work," Nathan says, examining the sword and turning towards an ornate gate in the garden. "Let's see if you can unlock this."

Nathan jams the sword into the space between the gates and pries.

"_Fuck!_" Sylar howls, back arching and twisting. Nathan scrapes and twists the blade in the gate, and Sylar warps in unnatural ways.

"Nathan, stop!" Mohinder pleads. "Sylar…"

Mohinder touches Sylar's face and Sylar looks up at him.

"I'm sorry, Mohinder, I tried," Sylar gasps. "I tried to be your hero."

Something in Mohinder flares and sparks, and he kisses Sylar's mouth. He takes hold of the sword, the one that came from within his own chest, and pulls it free from Sylar's bloodied shoulder, and Sylar begins to heal.

Before Sylar can rise to his feet, Mohinder cuts Nathan along the shoulder, deep, but non-lethal, enough to make his sword arm drop.

"I can't let you, Nathan. I can't let anyone," Sylar hears him say to Nathan.

Sylar lurches forward and yanks the sword out of Mohinder's hand, and the other out of Nathan's. Both swords shimmer in his hands and puddle into liquid on the ground.

"There. It's over. Can we get out of here?" Sylar asks shakily. Nathan turns, holding his bleeding shoulder.

"Mohinder, get back here."

"Yes. Absolutely," Mohinder sighs, in response not to Nathan, but to Sylar.

As they walk out, white rose still in his hand, green rose crushed under their feet.

They leave the Petrellis' courtyard and go out into the real world, and Mohinder takes Sylar's hand.


End file.
